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A Time For Reflection

On Monday, I went to a funeral. It’s not the greatest start to a week, to be honest, but it put me in a reflective mood. I’ve talked about funerals before, so that wasn’t on my mind. Instead, I was thinking about the individual who’d died and the period he came into my life.

The chances are I’m misremembering some of this, but I seem to recall my mum sending me round to a strange house – strange to me anyway (I don’t mean bats were flying around towers and eerie moans drifting up from cellars). I was eleven, so this would have been a year or so after my parents separated. At the time I had no idea why I was sent there and, to this day, no one’s ever explained it. My best guess now is that, as I was living with my mum and three sisters, there were concerns about the lack of male role models in my life.

Anyway, when I arrived, I met Alan, who took me under his wing and introduced me to the workshop he’d set up in his garage. My practical skills were (and still are) very limited, but I remember spending many evenings in this workshop getting to know Alan, his wife, Jo, and their son, Richard.

More than forty years later, the details of our acquaintance have misted over. Obviously, there were the evenings in that garage, though what we made escapes me. I do have a strong memory of an evening at their house when Dr No premiered on TV (hard to believe now, but there was a time when James Bond hadn’t been seen on the telly). This was a significant event in itself and I’ll write more about that soon.

In those days, money was very tight for us and we rented our TV (who remembers those days?), but my mum could only afford black and white. Alan and Jo had a colour TV, and it was big – in 1970s terms anyway. So they invited us all round and, with drinks and food laid on, made it very special for us.

As time passed, I drifted on to other things and Alan and Jo became peripheral to my life. More often than not, the only references I had to them were through comments my mum made, so I was aware of them and conscious they were still a strong part of her life.

With my recent reflections, though, I’ve realised much more happened back then. There were days out with Alan and Richard. I couldn’t tell you where we went, but during those journeys I discovered it was possible to have fun competing to see who saw the most cars of their chosen colour (who needs computer games?).

At some point, Alan built an extension and I vaguely recall helping, though I’m pretty confident my “help” should be interpreted very loosely. Then there was another occasion when we walked alongside a river – a memory I still can’t quite piece together but must have had some significance because it came so readily when I started thinking.

Do we all have these aspects of our lives, that have been significant and full, but have blended into the background? Or is it just me?

It strikes me that, in spite of the faded memories, those events have helped to shape me as a person. Perhaps they were things I just took for granted. I really don’t know, and it’s a shame that it takes someone dying to bring them to the forefront of your mind. But I’m glad I’ve had the wake-up call, the reminder that this particular family had an impact on my life.

Looking back on it now, I know there have been other people over the years that came into my life, often for short periods, and gave me help, support and kindness that I didn’t fully appreciate. It would be lovely to think I could go and say thank you to them all, but the reality is that it won’t be practical in most cases. So maybe the best thing I can do is make sure I follow the examples those good people have set for me and try to help others where I can.

Another thought-provoking post. I don’t think you’re alone in this at all. I think it’s the pace of life these days; it’s easy for things to fade away as we’re continually propelled onwards. But it is sad that we’re reminded of times and influences when someone passes away.

Thanks, Esther. I’m not so sure the pace of life was like that back in the ’70s, but I still let it drift away. Having said that, the support that was there for his family both during and after the funeral was enormous, which is undoubtedly a reflection of how well loved they all are. So I’m sure my absence for the last 40 years has been more than compensated for.

There is only so much we can keep in the forefront of memory. Past events and even the special people fade from consciousness, but are not truly forgotten… they are just not remembered. The difference between what’s open on the desktop and what is archived. It doesn’t lessen their part in our lives, nor how much they have contributed to shaping who we have become.

Lovely post, Graeme. It reminded me of a quote I recently read which said –
“Don’t come and see me and bring me flowers when I am dead, come and see me and bring me flowers while I am alive.”
That quote has had a big affect on me and made me realise just how much I don’t see the people who are and should be a part of my life. That iOS something I am now addressing.

I’m sorry to hear the news about your loss. At times like these memories can be so very comforting.

That quote is absolutely right, Hugh. And, when it comes to my family, I’ve taken that approach for many years. Not always as easy with the people you meet fleetingly along the way, but still make a difference to your lives.

Yes. Definitely, I have people and events that played a massive role and now blended into the background. They never go away though, not really. Somewhere Deep in my mind, they remain, influencing and moulding me.

I do remember renting our TV! Wow! Yes! My family was in pretty much the same circumstances, mum on her own bringing up 3 kids, we had no money to buy a TV either. Imagine that… people have one in almost every room now.

People do come and go in our lives, dont they? But don’t forget, you impacted on their lives too, it wasn’t just one-sided. You probably don’t even realise how much, few of us do.

There are people and things I wish I remembered better and appreciated more at the time, but we were young and too easily distracted. But we learned.

I’m sorry this special person has passed on, but he would probably enjoy this lovely post you have written about him.

Thanks, Ali. That TV renting thing seems like a different world now, doesn’t it? Especially in this day and age of throw-away consumerism.

Interesting what you’ve said about me impacting on their lives. That never really occurred to me and, for now, I can’t think in what way I might have done. Maybe I’ll work it out one day and blog about it…

Sorry for your loss Graeme, you write such heartfelt feelings which I think is a brave thing to do, I tend to leave more personal revelations to you!! It is true that people do touch on your life, you might not see them for a long, long time but when the memories come flooding back you realise their impact on you. What is significant is your sense of loss, a painful reminder that life is short and we should cherish these little moments that make up our life.

Thanks for your comment, Marje. I suppose I tend to write this kind of thing because a lot of my posts are about revelations I’ve had (usually about things that have been staring me in the face for years, and then the penny dropped). But those revelations are, in the main, about the important aspects of life – relationships, for example – rather than the material stuff. So I suppose that will inevitably mean I have to open up a bit in order to explain my point. I just hope that people will “get” where I’m coming from.

Funnily enough, I was at another funeral this week, although I had a completely different relationship with that man. What I found fascinating, though, was the Tribute paid by one of his friends, which opened my eyes to aspects of his character and life that I hadn’t even known about. And now it’s too late to find out about them from the man himself. Sometimes life is just too busy with the trivial to spend time on the important things – and that’s something that has to change.

Sorry to hear that you have lost another person that you knew. I think even dear friends can sometimes keep a side of themselves hidden, not perhaps intentionally, and when we discover this unexpected side perhaps we blame ourselves for not realising. No wonder these recent personal losses are making you reflect more on the important things in life. Keep the personal posts coming Graeme you write them so well. Life is too short, we can never do all we wish to but we can try and squeeze in as much as we can when we can.

Oh, they’re dropping like flies at the moment… Not that Alan Rickman and I were close, you understand. Excuse the flippancy. I know I upset my niece at my dad’s funeral because I was being too light-hearted but, as I explained to her: it’s what he would have wanted. Besides, it’s a coping mechanism.

Thanks again, Marje. I’ll do my best to keep the posts coming, but there’s a part of me that’s hoping I don’t have much else to learn.

We all cope in different ways Graeme, grief brings out all sorts of behaviour in people. As to not having much else to learn I think that’s unlikely! There’s always something new to learn just round the corner.. You’re doomed to bearing your soul Graeme!